The First Time
by Woody Allen Jesus
Summary: The Doctor has grown closer to his Victorian belle. He and Clara are both nervous, but they both want each other so badly. Tentatively, they make love for the first time together. Whoufflé, Victorian Clara. Mature, but not too explicit. Rated M to be safe. Please R&R


Kissing Clara was a delight unlike any other. Even since that first spontaneous and coy little one they'd shared when he'd found her in Victorian London, he'd been looking for that feeling it brought at every opportunity. There was nothing quite like feeling both his hearts race as her soft lips parted beneath his, allowing her hands to wind into his hair as they pressed themselves closer to one another. This time, they were sitting on Clara's bed, a luxurious queen-sized four-poster the TARDIS had been kind enough to conjure up in an approximation of a Victorian bedstead. An undeniable tension filled the air. This, as of yet, was uncharted territory for them. The Doctor had been so reluctant to appear to pressure her, and she was so coy around him as to make it impossible to tell if she was ready to take this step. Now, though, an unbridled intimacy was blossoming between them. The kiss deepened, further than any prior to it ever had. Electricity seemed to crackle between them both. The Doctor's hands strayed lower, sliding easily over the soft fabric of Clara's dress…

She flinched, suddenly and uneasily, and drew back from him, eyes wide and nervous.

"Sorry," the Doctor apologised. He was blushing, he was sure of it. "Do you not- is this too soon, for you?"

Clara's cheeks reddened as well. "I do," she said slowly. "Just that… I haven't- not ever-"

 _Oh._ Comprehension dawned on him. Yes, of course. Victorians weren't meant to simply hook up, and Clara was unattached, young and single… she'd never done this before. Which put rather a lot of pressure on him to… _perform_ , he supposed, for want of a better word. In fact, with all those lonely years on his cloud it had been a while since he'd… well, since he'd done _that._ Still, he was very much the experienced one here, and if it was her first time, he wanted it to be perfect. Was he capable of that? In fact, perhaps he should hold something back- he didn't want her getting expectations of him that he couldn't possibly live up to in future.

"There's no need to be nervous," he said gently to her. "There's nothing at all to be nervous about, and we don't really have to do anything, not if you don't want to."

Clara looked a little relieved by his words, but her face was torn by indecision. "I _do_ want to," she said, blushing further. "But maybe I shouldn't want to."

The Doctor moved to close the distance that had opened up between them. She watched him carefully but didn't move away, and he refrained from touching her in any way- his natural instinct would have been to try and physically reassure her in some way, but he sensed it would do more harm than good. He wanted to make her feel safe. He hated that Clara felt worried about anything around him. "In the future, we're very liberal about these things," he told her. "That's not to say you aren't entitled to have a different view of things, but nobody we'll ever meet on our travels would judge you if you didn't."

Clara nodded slowly. There was yearning in her wide brown eyes, but she still looked uncertain. "I'm not sure I'm ready," she said quietly. Her eyes flickered down to stare at the floor.

On an impulse, the Doctor reached out to her and cupped her cheek gently, wanting to soothe her. She didn't seem to mind; in fact, he was certain he saw a little bit of the tension leave her as he did so. "That's alright," he said. "If you aren't, then we'll wait. I only want to if you do too. We can wait for as long as you want to."

Clara exhaled slowly. Her shoulders relaxed considerably. She turned back to him and met his old and sagacious eyes with her young uncertain ones. "Maybe you can never be ready," she said musingly, eyes not leaving his, "unless you try it for yourself."

Clara scooted across to close the last of the space between them. She leaned forwards, and her arms slid round his neck as they kissed again. He could feel her nervousness, all of her insecurities, but determinedly she deepened the kiss just as he had before, and he kissed her back delicately and deliberately, hands slipping down to hold her waist. She didn't move away this time, and when his fingers touched upon the fastenings on her dress, she allowed him to go on.

Gradually, they got more and more horizontal on the bed. The Doctor fumbled nervously with the clasps behind her back- those cursed Victorians had to make everything damn near impossible to work. There were so many tiny hooks, and none of them seemed to come out easily. The next day, he resolved, he would go back in time to find the man who had invented the zipper and thank him on behalf of the male species. Now one of the hooks was caught. Wonderful. If his intention had been to make this perfect for Clara, he was failing spectacularly. To think he'd been worrying about being too good and setting the bar too high for himself.

Still, the tension only rose as they tentatively undressed one another. The Doctor couldn't help but be enthralled as little by little Clara's porcelain skin was revealed for the first time to him. Everything new he saw he marked with a kiss, making her shiver excitably and draw him closer to her. As the last of their clothing fell away, so too did the last of their reticence, as for the first time they delicately explored one another's bodies, and each new finding only made the Doctor more certain of what he'd already wholeheartedly believed- that Clara was the most beautiful girl he had ever, or would ever, see.

They didn't hurry through these opening stages, the prelude making them more and more excited the longer it went on, any inhibitions now distant memories. Any bashfulness on Clara's part was forgotten, and he watched her let herself relax under his attentions, taking in each and every new sensation as she felt for the first time all these things that were so utterly new to her. He was as gentle and considerate with her as he could be, patiently waiting until she was ready to move on. The rewards for his patience were the sharpness of her breaths as he caressed her newly bared skin, the soft tremors that ran through her, how she entwined herself closer to him, saying his name in a way nobody had in a long, long time.

When they began, it was shy, careful and reserved. She was careful because it was so new to her, he because she was so new to him. The Doctor did all he could to be tender and considerate, letting her dictate the pace, attuning himself carefully to her body language. Tonight was all about Clara. Slowly, things grew in intensity. She grew bolder, realising just how much she liked what was happening, and he allowed himself to be just a little less gentle, delighting in her little gasps of surprise as he touched so many sensitive spots she'd never known existed, in ways nobody had ever touched her before. Her nails dug into the sheets as she gripped them for support, shivering lightly as kisses and soft bites trailed down her neck.

One gasp in particular made the Doctor's ears prick up. Her eyes, having been closed, opened suddenly, wide and shocked, almost black through the dilation of her pupils. Something had clearly begun which had surprised her. Something was stirring inside of her that she'd never felt before. _Oh,_ the Doctor thought. Yes, of course, why hadn't he thought of that before? There was no Internet in Victorian England, no convenient answer to any and all awkward questions. There was only word of mouth. _Nobody ever told you about this bit, did they, Clara?_ No, clearly not. He could nearly imagine her confusion- a sensation was building, something imminent and expectant, and it scared her just a little, but thrilled her more, and she was desperate for it to release and to feel it peak. The Doctor met her wide eyes, and he nodded slowly and slightly, just gently letting her know that what she was feeling was normal, that it was fine, and that she was really going to enjoy it.

Things intensified further. Clara's ragged breaths were now punctuated by short, breathy little moans of unrestricted pleasure. Her legs wrapped round him as he gently coaxed her to the pinnacle of exultation, carefully guiding her there at an unhurried pace, letting her feel every single acute sensation along the way. She was getting so close… so was he, in fact, but he held off until he was certain she was there. They should share that moment together.

Her eyes suddenly snapped open. "Doctor," Clara whispered. "I'm going to…"

Her words caught in her throat as she tensed all over. Did she even know the word for it, he wondered? He'd have to tell her, afterwards.

A final delicate touch sent her spiralling beautifully over the edge. With a gasp Clara arched up against him. " _Doctor!"_ Her exquisitely ecstatic cries robbed him of the last of his self-restraint as she convulsed joyously round him. The pair of them came totally undone together, clutching one another desperately and moaning each other's names, bound together in utter bliss.

They held onto one another, shaking from the shockwaves they were both feeling, until the sensations began to fade, and they were left flushed and panting in each other's arms, breathless and worn-out and both feeling utterly wonderful.

Clara spoke, voice shaky and her words coming between rapid inhalations and exhalations. "That was…" she gasped. "That was…"

The Doctor rolled off her, helping her get her breath back. Indeed, he felt just as lost for words right now as she did. He'd almost forgotten what all this felt like, it had been so long. They lay side by side as their breathing and heart rates slowly returned to normal. Well, normal-ish. He wasn't sure his hearts would ever beat normally around her ever again.

"That was incredible," Clara said eventually.

The Doctor made a noise of agreement. She reached out across the bedspread, and her fingers interlaced with his. "You were perfect," she said, with something approaching awe.

Unable to help himself, he smiled lazily back at her. "So were you."

He reached out to slip an arm round her waist, and rolled her over so she was lying against him. She curled up against his body, nuzzling in to nestle her head in the juncture of his shoulder and collarbone, her brown hair tickling him gently. The Doctor sighed and allowed his other arm to wrap round her and enclose her in a protective circle. She echoed his sigh with a contented one of her own. "Do you mind if I go to sleep?" she asked, her voice muffled slightly against his shoulder.

The Doctor smiled to himself. He brushed a few loose strands of hair back from her forehead. "I wouldn't mind a bit."

"Alright then." She sighed once more, stretching out a little to get comfortable. It wasn't long until he could feel her slow, steady breathing against him as she drifted off. The Doctor lay there cradling her against him, comforted by her warm body being so close to his. He didn't really do sleep- he didn't need to, and it took up so much of his precious time. But just this once, he thought he might make an exception. Just because he was so comfortable here, and because it would be nice the next morning to wake up here in this same bed with those wide brown eyes of hers staring up at him inquisitively.

"Goodnight, Clara," he said softly. She murmured something in her sleep but didn't respond. He kissed each of her closed eyes lightly, then allowed his own to close, leaving him with just the blackness of the backs of his eyes, the sound of Clara's gentle breathing and the soft feel of her body against his to lull him gently to sleep.


End file.
